by Stasia Black
“If you’re worried that he’ll get to you, punish you for talking to us—”
She flinched at the captain’s choice of words. Punish. That’s exactly what Marcus would do. Punish her in the most delicious way possible. Make her submit to his will and make her like it. “I’m not afraid of that…” Okay, she was. Because if she stayed to testify, there was no way Marcus wouldn’t find a way to get her back.
She jumped to her feet. “I want to get out of here.”
“Mrs. Ubeli—”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.
The captain’s face hardened. “You want to see what sort of monster you married?” He opened the file and photos spilled out. Bodies splayed and bloody, eyes open, faces contorted in fear, frozen in the moment they realized their oncoming death.
She recognized one face. The curly haired man who’d roofied her. He’d said he was following orders. He’d tried to warn her.
Now he was dead.
I’m gonna take care of you.
“This is what your husband does,” the captain ranted. “This is how he conducts his business.”
“Do you have proof?”
“No. That’s why we need you.”
Light dawned. Cora scraped the photos up with her fingernails and stacked them into a pile. “You want me to testify against him somehow. Say he did these things and confessed to me.”
Excitement flickered in the captain’s eyes. “Yes.”
“You want me to lie.”
He said nothing.
This city is a beast, Marcus told her once. Innocents fall and the criminals go unpunished.
“My husband doesn’t think he’s a criminal,” she told the captain quietly. “He thinks he’s dispensing justice.” Even when he didn’t want to. There were moments when they were together, where he hesitated. He could’ve destroyed her for what her family did to his sister. Instead, he’d…
“That’s what the cops and courts are for.”
The police do nothing. They’re either corrupt, or have no power. And here was proof. The captain wanted her to lie on the stand. She wasn’t about to give her freedom up in order to satisfy some police captain’s wet dreams of glory in capturing a notorious crime boss.
She just wanted to get the hell out of here.
“If you testify for the DA, we could get you what you want. Set you up with a new life. New identity. Ubeli would never be able to touch you. You’d be safe. Free.”
“You mean witness protection?”
He nodded. “Federal marshals would have your back. You could live somewhere nice and sunny, all year round. Pick your paradise.”
Cora’s eyes wandered to the mirror that covered one wall. She looked tiny. Pale with shadows under her eyes, her long hair snarled. Who was she to try to stand up against the Lord of the Underworld?
She closed her eyes, not able to bear looking at herself anymore. There were no good choices. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, shielded in her mother’s controlling arms. The world wasn’t a pretty place and she had to face it.
“No. I won’t testify.”
Captain Martin didn’t say another word. He simply picked up the folder he brought in with him and strode from the room. The door shut behind him with a heavy clang.
Cora laid her head in her arms on the table. What now? Would they not even help her if she wasn’t willing to testify against Mar—
But she hadn’t even finished the thought before the door was pushing open again.
And there stood Marcus himself. “I must say, wife, choosing not to testify against me is the first smart thing you’ve done all day.”
Eighteen
“Marcus,” Cora sucked in a breath, her heart hammering like a bird in a trap. She backed away, putting the table between her and Marcus. Her mouth opened to scream, but she thought better of it.
“What are you doing here?” she croaked. Did the police know he was here?
Marcus tilted his head to the side, a cold smile curling his perfect lips. Despite everything, the sight of him hit her in the ovaries.
They were back in this cruel game where he was the hunter and she was the prey. She retreated as he paced forward, stopping when her back hit the wall. Cornered.
“Did you think the good officers of this precinct wouldn’t notify me of my missing wife’s appearance? Cora,” he put a hand over his heart in mock concern. “I was so worried.”
Ice trickled through Cora’s veins. The police? He even had the police in his pocket? Was it just this local department or how high up in the city did it go?
Marcus put his hand to her neck and she closed her eyes, preparing for him to squeeze.
But all he did was rub his thumb across her collarbone. “What have you done with my adornment, wife? It was a wedding present, after all.”
“What are you going to do to me?” She licked her lips, and heat flared in Marcus’s gaze.
“What I’m going to do now is take my wife home.” Her nipples hardened at his proximity and the look in his eye. Her crazy body responded to him as always.
Nothing stopped Marcus from getting what he wanted, and he wanted her.
He took her wrist in an unflinching grasp and pulled her toward the door. She tugged at him, more out of habit than outright defiance, and he paused.
“If you make a fuss, you won’t be the only one who pays.” He didn’t look back at her and didn’t have to. He wouldn’t just punish her. He’d punish the cops in the precinct who helped her. Maybe the captain deserved it, but the lady cop who’d been kind to her didn’t.
Cora didn’t protest as he pushed open the door and pulled her firmly out. His presence rolled over her senses and everything else receded.
Oh no. He was taking her back with him. And she was letting him. Before, submitting to him was a game she’d played in her head. She always swore to herself that sure, she’d submit—in order to get his guard down. And if she enjoyed it sometimes, well that was all the better, because she’d be more convincing to Marcus that she was harmless.
Escape had always been the ultimate plan.
But there was no escaping Marcus. Today had made that more than clear. There was no place to run and nowhere to hide where he wouldn’t find her. At least not in this city.
So what did it mean that she went with him now without even trying to fight? As they walked through the police precinct, the halls were eerily quiet. Was she supposed to just accept this as her fate? To give up all her dreams of freedom?
While the precinct had bustled with people on her arrival, now there was no one to be seen as he walked her down the hallway. Seeing the abandoned desks made it all sink in—just how powerful her husband was. She’d never had a chance.
She swallowed hard against the choking emotion as Marcus pushed through a set of doors Cora hadn’t seen before, that led to a side alley.
Sharo stood waiting by the car. If he was surprised to see Cora, his face didn’t show it. He merely opened the back door like always. Marcus didn’t acknowledge him. No, his focus seemed to be all on Cora as he marched her directly to the backseat and urged her none too gently into the car.
She wrapped her arms around herself and scooted to the opposite end of the bench seat the second he let her go. His presence affected her no matter what. It filled the car, like the subtle scent of his cologne. A sweet ambrosia, drugging her, dragging her under.
She wanted to try the other door, to open it and run as fast as she could. But no doubt it was locked, and even if it wasn’t, Sharo would be able to easily chase her down. She wasn’t in the mood to lose the last ounce of dignity she had remaining.
Marcus was silent on the short ride back to the Crown hotel. Again he grasped her wrist instead of her hand as they exited the car and made their way through the lobby. Cora felt all eyes on her. The way he was dragging her after him, no doubt she looked like a chastised schoolchild.
She hung her head so that her hair obscured her face. But only for a mom
ent because what the hell did she have to be ashamed of? She lifted her head and squared her shoulders, glaring down anyone who looked their way. It wasn’t her who ought to be ashamed, it was everyone else who allowed themselves to be under Marcus’s thumb.
If she shouted that Marcus was keeping her against her will, would any of these people even bat an eye?
What could they do even if they did, though? Call the police? A lot of good that would do.
They were in the elevator, now, Marcus and her, ascending to the top of the building. It felt like only seconds later that the ping sounded and the elevator doors opened again. She was right back where she started. And everything was worse. So much worse. Her heartbeat began to race.
She wanted to ask Marcus again what he had planned for her punishment, but no. She kept her back straight and her head up. She’d handled everything he’d thrown at her so far.
And if he ties you to the bed again? Fucks you slowly? How long before you break down and beg?
In spite of herself, Cora’s entire body trembled as Marcus pulled her over the threshold into the penthouse.
She’d submitted before because she could justify it as a means of eventually gaining the upper hand and escaping. But now? Now if her enemy made her cry out his name in ecstasy, there was no excuse. There’d be no way to rationalize her actions in her head next time.
No, if she submitted to Marcus again, it would mean facing the truth she’d long been denying—that some part of her liked it. Craved his touch and his dominance.
Her mind immediately tried to reject it. No. Never. She’d never—
“Welcome home,” Marcus said sardonically, letting the door slam shut behind them. Cora jumped at the noise. Marcus didn’t let go of her wrist.
“Marcus, I—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“But—”
“Silence.” The barked word was like the crack of a whip.
He tugged her to the living room and pointed to the couch. She sat on the very edge of the cushion, body tense and feet not quite touching the ground, waiting like a student called into the principal’s office. But the seconds stretched to minutes and judgement never came.
Marcus paced away, pulling off his jacket and removing his cufflinks. He looked back once as he rolled up his sleeves, exposing his forearms, lean and hard and dusted with dark hair. Cora’s breath caught, but he only strolled to the side bar. Glass clinked and he returned with a glass half full of amber liquid. He offered it and she shook her head, but when he didn’t move she finally accepted it. He strolled back and poured another glass for himself. He took his drink to the window and stood sipping, his profile outlined in shadow.
In the silence, her nerves were screaming. What would he do to her? The waiting might kill her.
Cora raised her own glass but stopped when she breathed in the alcohol’s cloying scent.
“Just get it over with.” Her voice broke the airless quiet.
Marcus turned and regarded her. She set her glass down on a side table with a solid click.
“Punish me, yell at me, whatever you’re going to do.” She folded her arms around her middle. Don’t let him in. No matter what. He wanted to enslave her just like Mom had for all those years. She said it out loud to remind herself he was no different. “My mother locked me in the cellar. I guess getting tied up in a bedroom is an upgrade.”
Marcus’s gaze darkened. He ambled over, his casual stroll at odds with the fierce intensity on his face. The focus of a hunter intent on his prey.
She couldn’t move, trapped in his regard. Not even when he stepped so close her knee brushed his.
No. You want to be free. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.
His hand went around her neck, collaring her with warm, hard fingers.
Her pulse hammered under his palm. She closed her eyes against his gorgeous face. But she couldn’t shut out the warmth of his hand or the way her body completely relaxed at his commanding touch. Why? Why did he affect her like this? She was so confused; she didn’t know which way was up.
“I had to try,” she blurted when silence became too heavy to bear.
“I know.” His thumb stroked her chin in a semblance of tenderness.
“So do it.” She tried to sound strong but her voice wavered. “Whatever you plan to do with me. Do your worst.” And she looked him straight in the eye. His eyes were dark, almost black.
He dropped his hand and took a seat opposite her.
Her breath stuttered out of her. He savored his drink and observed her like she was a piece of art he owned. “Do you know why I'm training you?”
Because you’re a controlling madman? she wanted to bite out. But he’d told her the first night why he was doing all this. “Because you delight in torturing me.”
“Yes.” He swished the dregs of his drink. “There is that. But ultimately, Cora, I keep you so you’re safe.”
She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
She shook her head, rubbing her tired face. “You do all these awful things in the name of peace. You tell yourself Olympus is dangerous and that you’re the only one who can hold back the violence.”
“It’s true. No one else is strong enough.”
“You think you’re the city’s savior.”
“Not a savior. An emperor.”
Of course. She could totally see him standing on the Senate steps. Handing out laurels. Sending out troops. Conquering nations, torching cities, enslaving the enemy and sowing their fields with salt.
“It’s better to be feared than loved,” she quoted Machiavelli. Marcus in a nutshell.
“Do you, Cora? Do you fear me?”
“Yes.” Her answer was barely a puff of air.
He cocked his head, looking pleased. “And what about love?”
“What about it?”
“You said you loved me.”
“That was before. Now I know the real you.”
He stood and pulled her to her feet. “I’ve been too lenient with you. I let you off the leash and you betrayed my trust.”
Had he really thought she wouldn’t run if given half a chance?
“You’ll never be free. But now you know the boundaries of your cage.” He leaned close, his scent washing over her, a mix of subtle cologne and scotch. “There’s nowhere to run to, Cora. I will hunt you down. You belong here, at my side. Forever.”
Her breath hitched but he wasn’t done. “So why not stop fighting it? Let yourself go. Let yourself be mine.” He backed up and she wobbled. His presence was a force and when it was gone she felt the loss.
“Now, strip.” With that order, he left her.
Submit. Obey. Escape. That still was her ultimate plan.
But that required submission, didn’t it? And Marcus wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than total control of her body and command over her mind. She was losing herself and the scary thing was—she liked it.
It’s okay. A small voice told her. He’s bigger, faster, stronger than you. You may as well enjoy it.
And if she didn’t obey, no doubt he’d strip her himself. So she shucked off the jeans and shirt along with any sense of normalcy. Her skin pebbled in the cool room.
When she was down to her bra and panties, Marcus returned, box in hand. He set it down and put his hands in his pockets, nodding at her to carry on the show. Face tight, she stripped out of the rest. It wasn’t like she had anything to hide. Today was the first time she’d put on clothes since the wedding.
But still, she waited, chest heaving, as he studied her. Eventually he came to her side, running a hand down her back and sides like he was examining a horse he wanted to buy. She couldn’t help a shiver of desire when he cupped her ass. She remembered her last punishment all too well.
“Are you going to punish me?”
Bent halfway through his examination of her quivering thighs, he tilted his head up. “Do you want me to?”
Her an
swer stuck in her throat. What would she do to ease the weight of anticipation?
His words rang in her ears. Let yourself go. Let yourself be mine.
She didn’t trust him. Couldn’t trust him. At least not with her heart.
But her body? The thought about what it might be like if he took her back to that perfect, ecstatic place where she could finally, finally escape her own head and all the confusion and noise. Where she could just…be.
“Yes,” she said, suddenly decisive. “I want you to punish me.”
Something flashed in his eyes, gone in an instant. He raised his chin. “I think, wife, I may have underestimated you.”
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Was it possible to surprise him? To challenge him and make him regard her as an equal?
Marcus opened the box he’d brought and lifted out a heavy collar. Metal, silver, stainless steel and linked to a leash. So much for being his equal.
Smirking, he drew her before a giant mirror with a heavy gilt frame. He positioned her in front of it and held her still with hands on her hips.
His lips found her ears. “What do you see?”
“You, me. Us.”
“I see a submissive.”
A ripple went through her body. He held her up with an iron arm around her waist when her legs would buckle.
“Such a shame we have to be enemies. Circling each other, round after round, fight after fight. We were made for each other.”
“Don’t,” she whispered, feeling close to tears. She was raw, wrung dry. His tender words were arrows. She could withstand his cruelty, but not his soft, soothing voice, spinning a story of destiny. After all, who could fight the Fates? Why even try?
It’s just your body. It doesn’t mean you’re giving him your mind. Or your heart. And he can do such lovely things to your body.
“Give yourself to me, Cora.” He raised the stainless-steel collar. She closed her eyes just before the click.
“Mine,” he breathed, then he tugged on the leash, forcing her head back, forcing her to look him in the eyes.
